Lucas POV.
The phone rang.
He didn't recognize the number, but he answered anyway
"Lucas? It's Elena."
Her voice was steady, but there was something urgent beneath it.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He hesitated. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not. I can hear it."
He wanted to argue, to push her away, but the truth was too heavy.
"I saw him," Lucas admitted. "Daniel."
There was silence on the other end.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked finally.
He closed his eyes. "I don't know if I can."
"You don't have to. Just... don't shut me out."
He swallowed hard. "Thanks."
They hung up, but the conversation lingered, a fragile thread connecting two broken people.
The next day, Lucas found himself wandering through the city, the noise and chaos a distraction from the storm inside.
He stopped at a coffee shop and ordered a black coffee, sitting by the window and watching the world move.
His phone buzzed with a message.
"Session tonight? I have a new design I want to show you." —Elena
He stared at the screen, the invitation both a comfort and a challenge.
He typed back: "I'll be there."
That night, the tattoo studio was quiet except for the hum of the machine and the steady scratch of needle on skin.
Elena worked with practiced ease, her hands steady and sure.
Lucas lay back in the chair, trying to focus on the sensation rather than the turmoil in his mind.
"What's this one?" he asked.
"A map," she said. "Not a real one. A map of where you've been—and where you might go."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds optimistic."
She smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just honest."
As the needle moved, Lucas felt the sting, sharp and grounding. He told her about Daniel, about the guilt and regret, about the fear that he'd never be enough—not for himself, not for anyone.
She listened without judgment, her eyes never leaving his face.
When she finished, Lucas looked at the new ink—a tangle of lines and symbols, a chaotic but beautiful maze.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not letting me hide."
Elena shrugged. "Someone has to."
Back in his apartment, Lucas stared at his reflection in the mirror. The tattoos were still hidden beneath his shirt sleeves, but he could feel them beneath his skin—a reminder that he was marked, changed.
He thought about Daniel, about Elena, about the man he wanted to be and the one he was.
The city lights flickered outside, and for the first time in a long time, Lucas wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness.